


Assumptions

by Leszre



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leszre/pseuds/Leszre
Summary: Two people who basically grew up together in a small town having assumptions;This short story takes place where Oliver (24) visits home after becoming a big shot in the city. Elio (17) who happens to be this brilliant prodigal music genius, who skipped several grades, and is in the process of graduating from one of the most prestigious conservatory in the country. He too came home for the summer. Two haven’t seen each other for a couple of years as their lives took them apart after Oliver graduating from high school.Taking place in the attic (like that of most recent installmentLittle Women), Oliver being a good son, packing up his stuff so his dear mother can turn that space into her sewing room.
Relationships: Oliver & Elio Perlman, Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh... this came out of nowhere: _literally_. I guess... you could call it a wet dream (not in a disgusting way though *with a dubious grin plastered on my mug*). I woke up with this in the wee hour of morning and it had to come out. So... here you go and hope you like it. *crossing my fingers*

We have been in contact. A text here and there, exchanging pictures of our busy lives. Phone calls, too: much rare.

The way he brightened up as he walked into the living room, I almost lost my shit. The same unruly wayward curls bouncing nonchalantly as he moved, his shoulders hunched a little (Chiara in the art department would call it, ‘a terrible American Posture.’ *Oliver huffed in his head at his own amusement.), his giant hazel eyes always not looking at you-you. A typical introvert on top of a splitting image of a deep thinker (or a philosopher) of yester-years. Elio I remembered hadn’t changed a bit. It was a comforting thought. He had gotten taller though, than the last time I saw him. A growing boy.

As if the time had never passed on by, we slipped into how things were between us so effortlessly. Him asking after my life and I happily obliging him. Between us, I’ve always been the animated and the talkative one. Mother called across from the back garden, telling the usual. “Yes, ma’am!” I bellowed over my shoulder to her direction. Elio simply shook his head, his slender form perched on the edge of the couch. With a shrug and a little tut, I decided to get my ass up there to start packing my stuff. Hands shoved deep in his jeans, he followed up to the attic, listening to me babble about how my life had been.

“So, anything new with you?”

Elio shrugged, making his usual non-committal noise at the bottom of his throat. Just like any other artist, Elio was embodying the very essence of a private person. Yet, the way he looked up through the curls that fallen over his face made every pieces come together. See? I know things, dude.

“There _is_ someone,” I said, my hands pausing on top of an open box that was filling up with the stuff that I was happy to part with, “isn’t there?”

Another non-committal noise. But his cheeks flushed a little, as he brushed the inside of his long pianist's hand over his mouth.

“Is she… someone I know?” I asked him, neutrally, not to push too much.

Elio sucked in a small breath, as if he didn’t expect me asking that question, and lifted a book he was flipping in his grip. So I tipped my head towards one of the ‘keep’ box. As intrigued as I was, I felt a little pluck in my chest that resembled something a lot like a disappointment. For sure, I was happy for him. Yet, I couldn’t help but to subdue a sigh.

“Has it been going on for a while?”

Elio nodded and the way his ringlets bounced was a sight to behold.

“Are you asking her out?”

Something sound very close to ‘meh~’ though wasn’t formed quite all the way came from Elio before he said, “he, she, they,” he tossed one of his edge-curled open palm at around his mid-torso, before he looked up at me (just the flicker of his eyes) “seriously, in this day and age?”

“Alright, alright.”

For the sake of conversation, I settled with the pronoun, ‘they.’

Elio didn’t mind answering my endless questions. And I’d never seen him this way before. Funny thing what love does to people. Though he wasn’t telling me anything definitive or concrete that could lead me to pinpoint who exactly this person in question was, a strange sensation of pride and joy bloomed in my chest. He was growing up. Well, he’ll be celebrating his eighteenth birthday come November. So–

“Well,” I dumped out a sharp exhale with a wide smile, “regardless of whom,” I dragged the word with a bit of a look, of which Elio grinned and half-rolled his eyes, “people think the first kiss will tell them everything about the relationship they are about to have.”

His eyes bright, Elio shifted on his feet, while I wiped the sweat off my forehead. As if he read my mind, Elio walked over to the opposite side of the attic and opened the unused window that gave out the ear-bugging saw-dust grinding sound as it slid open under his grip. With quiet wide steps, he did the same with the window behind me. I wiped my dusty hand in a rag and reached over and ruffled the top of his head, in a thanks for his intuitive action. Elio swatted my hand jovially with a closed lip wide grin.

“C’mon,” I gestured to him as I sat myself on top of the wooden chest that was handed down by my great-great grandfather. Elio pulled his chin a bit with a blink. So I tossed my head a little in mid-air for him to come sit with me. Strangely, he tucked his shoulders up towards his ears.

“Oh, come on, you goose,” I teased him. All the while, quickly coming to a conclusion that it must have been the hair thing. Because he never liked being treated like a child. Paying no further mind to what already happened, I tapped the top of the trunk lightly with a look, ‘get over yourself, it’s me you are talking about.’ I didn't quite understand why I was so excited about this.

Elio heaved his chest with a blink before he decided to draw a wide half-circle with his steps. I kept my mouth shut until he parked his butt next to where I wanted him to be.

“Alright, padawan,” I turned to him, shifting in my seat, “there is a trick to this,” I began with an excitement I could never pinpoint where it came from.

“Rule number one, never, I mean _never_ ask whether you can kiss them. Unlike the popular belief, it only works in the movie or book, for your case,” I emphasized at the end, how well I know him, with a look.

Elio’s plump heart shaped mouth gave ‘huh’ without a sound.

“The whole thing about 'can I kiss you?' has a pretty high chance to backfire with the stupid, 'oh, can you?'," I offered my reason. And Elio simply listened in.

"And even with the proper, 'may I kiss you?' also carries the possibility of an awkward pause for an answer, of which for most people these days, unless they breathe and live grammar or lit major, it is never 'yes, you may'."

Elio let out a soft 'ah.' Awesome, I thought to myself, judging from his more than appropriately timed response.

“A guy like you,” I added, whom I’d known him to have just as steller level emotional intelligence of all the people I met, “will be able to sense and gauge where you stand with them.”

Elio simply breathed, looking at me as if I was his date. The way his bright hazel eyes searched into my gaze as if I was the only thing matter to him was out of this world. Whoever he was going to ask out was sure damn lucky as hell.

“Good, good,” I carried on, praising of his concentration, “but _I_ recommend,” pronouncing the subject with a little more enthusiasm to let him know it was based on my experience, “for you to wait until the end.”

“The end?” Elio drew his brows close.

I nodded, “make the tension linger, if you didn’t drive there, and the weather is good, suggest a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeated the word like a parrot who was learning how to speak ‘human.’ Stating a word with a raise tone at the end was never a correct way to ask a question. But no time for that. I waved my hand at him, with a bit of impatience of ‘you get what I mean.’ To that, Elio huffed out a chuckle.

“By that time, you pretty much know whether to go for it or not.”

Elio tilted his head, only just.

“The kiss, you goose,” I clarified.

Elio opened his mouth in soft ‘ah,’ catching on my meaning.

“Waiting for them to kiss you first might not work. As you’ve said, ‘in this day and age,’" I gave a pause to add a bit of suspense (and to set my point firmly), "hesitation is the killer.”

Tentative noise of short ‘hm’ resonated from him.

“So, first, start out by testing your boundaries,” I leaned in close as if I was enacting how Elio should, “a touch here and there,” brushing the stray curls over his forehead with my index finger. And I saw his eyes shift as his shoulders rose a little.

“Lower your voice a tad but never whisper, it’s too cheesy,” I told him, doing just so, adding a timbre, tracing the back of my knuckles along the sharp line of Elio’s jaw, “and with a small smile,” I added glancing up at him, “ghost your breath over their skin.”

And I heard Elio letting out a stifled sigh through his nose. How gorgeous he looked.

“Good,” I praised him, thinking how good he was in imagining the future that was yet to happen for him and his date in this level of emotion. A true definition of immersion. I was assured he’d do just fine.

To my surprise, Elio thus far appeared to just go along with my ridiculous folly whom used only few words finally spoke, “then,” and he was rehearsing what I just told him. Enough timbre, a notch low tone, just above a whisper, “what do I do next?” he asked almost breathlessly, his voice colored in just the right amount of anticipation and indulgence.

My chest hummed voluntarily as I tilted my head, continuing on my visual enactment, “you start light, only lips.”

Elio closed his eyes at that. Gosh, he was picturing it. The way he looked made my heart sped up. An unexpected reaction but it was more than understandable because it was Elio. Even from a total hetero perspective, he was a good looking guy. No, I wasn’t going to kiss him. With a swallow, getting my head into its apt place (back to earth) which was getting a little light and foggy, I tilted my head over his face, our noses almost about to touch, keeping nearly there but not-there-yet distance. Yet, even for me, who spent almost a half of my life with him (as we practically grew up together), a person who’d seen everything there was to see and known everything there was to know, this Elio was new. _Lucky son of a bitch_ , the voice in my head spat with a bit thicker jealousy than I expected, repeating his own words of whoever ‘he, she, they’ in a string.

“And keep it chaste,” I finally was able to add, preparing to pull away from him to continue the rest, while getting back to the agenda of the day: clean-up and box everything! Yet something inside me kept me rooted sturdy in place, not wanting this moment to end. I huffed at myself in my head, talk about the second-hand transference. Get your head straight, Oliver. I chided myself. Then, it happened.

At first, I didn’t quite register what was happening. Elio just didn’t press his lips over mine. Rather, his plump soft lips closed the distance in a lightly parted state and gently closed over on my upper lip. The placement was exquisite: not right in the mouth but off-center, him nuzzling his still peach-fuzzed cheek.

I immediately felt dizzy.

And the voice in my head went, ‘alright, a full service, _привет, комраде_ (hello there, friend)! Demonstration included.’ Yet, I knew I was indulging myself as well. Because… unbeknownst to him, I’ve always had this inexplicable crush on him. The voice in my head tsked bitterly not liking the term 'crush.' I don’t know for exactly how long but… I had known that he was someone I held very close to my heart.

Before I could process _whatever_ this was happening between us or plan how I would handle once it was over (so neither of us would be awkward), my lips responded first. Parting a little, reciprocating and capturing his lips between them, gently and smoothly, hoping the person whom he’d be kissing in the near future would return the favor of his gentleness as I was doing now.

What Elio did next made me shiver. He placed his palm, slowly splaying his fingers, over my left chest. I couldn’t help but to stifle a moan into his mouth.

Reality be damned, my head cursed. That was when I just gave in. I wrapped my left arm around his back, right under his shoulder blades, and with the other cradling the magnificent skull of his, letting my fingers card through, freely and greedily, into those beautiful curls.

It was fantastic; feeling him this close. Him breathing a moan after a moan into my mouth, letting me lead, my face tingling with bliss. It was simply electric. And though completely lost in the moment, a distinct thought floated up: _Why didn’t I do this before?_

.

“Now, young man!”

And the voice stopped. I didn’t hear her coming up the wooden steps to the attic. The way Elio startled with a little jump in my arms told me he didn’t either. Our lips swollen pink and thoroughly wet with each other’s saliva, we separated with reluctance. How debauched we must have looked.

Mother stammered yet she had this look as she heaved her chest. Not letting go of Elio from my embrace, I felt my face muscles about to grimace, bracing for her trademark talkdown.

To my surprise, she simply dumped out her chest with a sigh of relief and added, “sorry, boys," clearing her throat a tad nervously with a hint of giggle, "carry on,” and swiveled on her heels and disappeared downstairs.

Huh.

We must have been thinking the same thing. Our noses brushed against each other as we returned our eyes. Oh, he was so perfect. With his eyebrows tipped up towards his hairline, I knew exactly what he was thinking. I chuckled at that.

“So,” Elio tossed, “you were saying?”

I growled, crinkling the bridge of my nose with a smile, my chest letting out a happy hum. And I whispered, “shut up,” and placed my lips back where they belonged all along.

| | | FIN | | |

**Author's Note:**

> on my second read through(eh-hem, for spell check and such), why did I get rather defensive out of nowhere and feel the need to disclose that I've never had a celebrity crush? hmm~? Because my living breathing muse, if that's an extended meaning of celebrity crush, is actually someone not in the industry. For those of you who've read through all my AUs, you probably know who. hahahaha  
> .  
> As always, \Thank you/ for reading, your time and interest.  
> Do kindly remember to self-care and self-love: mind, body, and soul. And I mean it! *wide smile*  
> .  
>  **[Special Thanks to]** : (alphabetical order as the King Arthur’s roundtable style may be a tad too dramatic LOL. This has always been my tradition, and I update this list on each fic, periodically.)  
> Anna50,  
> Chrisaki,  
> cowboybaebe,  
> DorotheaB,  
> ElementalPea,  
> ElinSkjorsather,  
> ElioOliver4Ever,  
> Harlech1000,  
> ilovelife19,  
> Kittenpurple,  
> Ktostam055,  
> lizainthesky,  
> Lovelysoul,  
> lycanus1,  
> RBM,  
> tsunmari,  
> valexwest,  
> Volmarto,  
> +  
> those who subscribed, bookmarked, and all anon who sent kudos--!  
> .  
> 


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